Only Makes Us Stronger
by repmetsyrrah
Summary: S/T S2 AU. The Spanish flu strikes Downton before Sybil and Tom have a chance to make their announcement. When Tom falls ill, Sybil finds herself tested and their secret in danger.


A second birthday fic for my lovely beta, babageneush! (who this time betaed it herself too).

This one takes place just **before** 2x08 and again it will be multi-chapter. Only four or five though.

Enjoy!

**Chapter One**

* * *

"Ah, ready?"

"Ready." Sybil smiled at her father as she came down the stairs. "I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"Not at all."

Since their failed elopment Sybil had taken to spending more time with her family, all too aware that the time was fast approaching when they might never want to speak to her again.

She wasn't sure if it was going to make the eventual parting harder or not, but she hoped it would help her family know that she loved them and that also loving the chauffeur didn't change that.

"Where's the motor?"

Sybil looked up at her father's voice, surprised to see no waiting vehicle outside.

Carnson frowned, a hint of anger in his creased brow as he peered around the door he was holding open. "Mr. Branson was informed of your trip, Your Lordship," he assured the man. "I'll go find him now."

"I'll come too," Sybil offered, trying to sound annoyed as she hastily added, "it's very unlike him."

"I'll be in the library," her father muttered, clearly too unhappy with the delay to bother wondering why Sybil wanted to go too.

She wanted to run but she forced herself to keep pace with the butler as the pair made their way to the garage. If Carson objected to her company he didn't say. His Lordship hadn't spoken against the youngest Crawley going to the garage and therefore, neither would he.

Sybil wondered what he would say when they made their announcement. When he found out 'Mr. Branson' had so completely and brutally defied the order of the world Carson held so dear.

The garage door was closed which didn't serve to make Sybil any less worried, it was usually one of the first things Tom did in the morning. He didn't like being too enclosed all day, he had told her. He liked letting the world in.

Sybil resisted the urge to rush and open it herself, waiting as Carson took hold and pulled, revealing the very sight Sybil had been afraid of.

"Tom!"

"Good lord! Mr. Branson?"

Later, Sybil would reflect how incredibly fortunate she had been that Carson was not only louder than her but had made his exclamation at the exact same time as her's, thus sparing any need to explain why she had been calling the chauffeur by his first name.

Now, all she was worried about was why her fiancé was sitting on the running board of the motor, his skin a worrying shade of grey and looking as if he was trying not to be sick.

Sybil hurried to his side, Mr. Carson just behind her as she knelt in front of him.

"I was just bringing the car around, sir," Tom said weakly, pulling himself up as he looked to Carson. "I needed to sit a moment. I'll get it now."

"You will do nothing of the sort," Carson told him firmly.

She reached up and placed a hand on his forehead, biting back a swear as she felt the heat almost burn her.

"Carson, go and call Dr. Clarkson," she told the butler, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. "I'll stay here with Branson."

"M'lady, I'm not sure-"

"Just because the war's over doesn't mean I've forgotten how to be a nurse," she snapped at him, the words coming out far harsher than she intended.

She was immediately sorry but she would apologise later, for now she was merely grateful Carson was as professional and honour-bound as always as the man held his tongue and simply nodded before hurrying back up to the house.

"Tom?"

He looked at her through clouded eyes and she couldn't stop herself reaching up to brush the hair away from his forehead.

"Sybil…" His voice was weak. "Love, I don't feel so well."

"You don't look it either," she assured him, trying to sound light.

In truth, she was almost terrified. Tom had been fine last night, a little tired but it had been a long day. Now he wouldn't look out of place in a hospital bed.

With some effort she managed to help him back into the cottage. She considered putting him in bed but decided to sit him at the kitchen table instead. She didn't want to give Carson a heart attack from finding them alone in the bedroom together, no matter that Tom was barely capable of walking let alone taking advantage of her in any way.

Once she had him there she didn't know what to do. He seemed not to properly realise she was there, a fact which worried her even more. She busied herself fetching water and encouraging him to drink as she wet towels to try and cool his burning forehead.

Dr. Clarkson arrived quicker than she had expected and she was grateful he was there to examine Tom but it meant she had to stand back and pretend as if it didn't affect her to see him like this.

Carson had accompanied him and stood watch as the doctor examined the Irishman, glancing at Sybil every so often. She guessed he was wondering why she felt the need to remain in the cottage when the doctor had now arrived but again, he didn't say anything.

It seemed an eternity before Dr. Clarkson straightened and turned to them.

"This isn't the first case of this I've seen," he told them, shaking his head. "It can be bad but Mr. Branson is young and in good shape."

"How bad?" She knew she had spoken to quickly when both men turned to look curiously at her but she didn't care.

Dr. Clarkson shrugged. "It's a strange disease and can change suddenly. You'll need to keep him warm and hydrated."

"Well we can't leave him out here then," she said, trying to sound detached and professional.

"I agree, Nurse Crawley." Dr. Clarkson nodded and turned to address Carson. "It would be best to keep him in the house if there's a spare bed. I've seen several cases like this in the village and if it's come to the house Mr. Branson may only be the first. It'd be better if he wasn't so separate."

_If there's a spare bed._

Sybil almost laughed. Of course there was, there were hundreds of them. But none of _those_ would be offered to a lowly servant. Dr. Clarkson meant a bed in the attic, where those of lower birth were relegated to.

"There's one spare room," Carson informed them. "We can put him there for the time being."

Sybil nodded. At least he'd be a little closer to her and unless she wanted to cause a much bigger problem, she would have to be happy with that.

* * *

"Will he be alright?"

"He's sleeping now," Dr. Clarkson told them.

They had gathered just outside his room once they had managed to get him settled. Sybil, Carson, and her mother, who had asked the question, having seen fit to show enough concern for a sick employee to join them in the attics.

"He drove the Dowager Countess home last night," Carson told the doctor.

"He made it there and back with no trouble."

_No he didn't. _Sybil wanted to tell her mother. _He was feeling tired, but we didn't think anything of it when he told me that, in his cottage while you thought I was in bed._

But she kept her thoughts to herself. Now was not the time to bring _that_ up.

"It's not unusual for it to progress quickly," Dr. Clarkson told them. "I'm afraid I must be off. Mr. Branson is settled and there's nothing more I can do right now. When he wakes, give him some aspirin and cinnamon in milk. That should help."

"Of course. Thank you, Dr. Clarkson." Cora nodded. "Sybil?"

She stared at her mother uncomprehendingly for a moment. Surely she wasn't expected to leave Tom's side when he so clearly needed her?

Then reality caught up with her.

Sybil Crawley would not leave her sick fiancé's side, but Lady Sybil had no reason to sit and keep watch over an unwell chauffeur, nurse or not.

For a fleeting moment she considered resisting, telling them all now and returning to stay with him and nurse him as she so dearly wanted.

But Tom needed care, and he was unlikely to get it if her father had him thrown out tonight.

So instead she nodded, and followed her mother down, leaving her thoughts and heart in the small, uncomfortable bed with the man she loved.


End file.
